


Something so precious about this

by mikeginsanity (blahblahwahwah)



Series: Heart & Pitch [2]
Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 01:59:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8232143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blahblahwahwah/pseuds/mikeginsanity
Summary: The smutty continuation of Underneath your Familiar.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you my lovelies for such a positive response on the first one. As it turns out it spurred on a rather long, surprisingly graphic smut fic.
> 
> Apologies for any typos if I over looked 'em.  
> It was a long document.
> 
> Reviews are apparently the key to spurring on more writing. Enjoy.
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own anyone. Don't want to.

Love

/lʌv/

_noun - verb_

a strong feeling of affection and sexual attraction for someone.

* * *

He fuckin’ hates bodycon dresses (yeah, that’s right! He knows what they’re called). They’re the modern sartorial equivalent of a chastity belt for him - where someone forgot to give him the key.

“Are we gonna regret this tomorrow?” Her voice is thick.

Mike groans -her teeth scrape against his ear and he likes it. A lot.

“Probably, yeah.” He mumbles against the skin behind her ear, trying to reach for the hem of her dress.  She might as well be as tall as he is - he has to duck a little to reach her thigh, pulling her leg up so he can get his hand in. She lets out a small gasp when his fingers brush at the soft skin in the flexure of her knee. The sound is so subtle, but so powerful, it makes him want more.

“You wouldn’t want to do this?” The uncertainty in her voice just barely penetrates through the haze.

“Fuck, yes, Ginny.” He kisses his way over the hard edge of her jaw, murmuring against the corner of her mouth. “I wanna do this all the time.”

Her body stiffens, she stops fumbling with his belt. He’s somewhat aware of it but can’t be bothered because he can’t seem to get that _damned_ dress out of the way.

She flattens her palms against his chest and exerts a little force that puts some space between their upper bodies.

He stares at her - pupils bloomed, mouth all swollen from all their frenching, her breathing all ratchety – all, in a way that makes his mouth go dry.

“I mean.” She says – her voice is all croaky. “You wouldn’t wanna do this, _with me_?”

Mike’s mid-way between captivated by the way she moistens her lip and confused about that hurt look in her eyes. He frowns, trying to remember what they’ve been talking about. (He can’t be blamed, can he? All the blood that’s supposed to go to his brain is on redirect - southwards.)

And then suddenly he feels like a douchebag.

(For all her spunk, and self-confidence, she’s still a baby, he thinks, in so many ways.)

“No.”  The words are out of his mouth before he can stop ‘em. ( _And._ They didn’t quite come out the way he had intended.)

Her lower lip quivers, she tucks it under her teeth – like when she’s disappointed. She pushes on his chest, with more force this time.

(His brain’s stuck in a snafu and he’s not entirely happy with the fact that he cannot articulate anything sensible.)

He doesn’t let her get away. He releases her leg to grasp the hands pressing on his chest. “No, I mean.” He quickly says. “I mean, I’d probably regret doing this… _here_ …like _this_.”

(He should get a medal for his restraint. It legitimately feels like his cock is about to explode.)

She frowns. He clears his throat, mentally rattling his head to find words. “I always figured…” He says, looking at her meaningfully. “Our first time would be…how should I say? Classier?”

That wounded expression on her face fades. She looks surprised. “Our first time?” She echoes.

“Yeah, y’know? I’d ask you out,” He wags his head as he blurts the words and thinks (yes, in that order). “Take you out on a couple of dates? You know the drill. I’d woo the hell out of ya.”

She’s watching him with a perplexed expression. The urgency of his arousal abates a little at her apprehension.

“Hey! Don’t look at me like that.” He states, mock widening his eyebrows. “I can _woo_.” He nods his head, like he does when he’s on the field, making a point. “I’m a wooer.”

(Why is she looking at him like that? It’s creeping him out.)

“At least it won’t be in a place like this -” He sighs, rolling his head as a means to point to their current location – and position. Up against a wall – in a bathroom of some yuppie nightclub (- or is it a bar?)

It is sexy as fuck, but not what he’d prefer for a first time hook-up - not when it comes to her.

 “It would be a nice room…” He rambles on (absolutely certain that the bridge between his brain and mouth irreparably burned down twenty fucking minutes ago.) “Y’know … _clean_  – with a bed. Not that I’m particular about beds” He flexes out his shoulders, feeling that familiar soft crack of relief spasms down his spine. (– an ever present reminder of how goddamned _old_ he is.) “A bed’d be nice, though.” He adds.

When Mike meets her eyes, she’s still searching his face with an expression that he can’t quite place. She looks less vulnerable now, and more – intrigued. He shakes his head and goes on. “And - I wouldn’t be so drunk because I’d wanna _remember_ our first time.” He chuckles gruffly. “You’re definitely gonna remember it, because I’m _really_ good.”

She quirks her eyebrows, like she does, when he prattles on about himself. (It’s a trick he learnt, long ago, in an effort to distract her from that mountainload of worry she carried on those broad gangly shoulders).

(Also – now that his cock has softened, he’s finding that he can string his words without tripping over them.)

“But, I don’t know if I’ll remember it tomorrow because I drank a lot. And I’d _wanna_ remember this.” He sighs. Then, he groans – thinking of the impending hangover and the inevitable awkwardness between them. “Oh man! Tomorrow’s gonna suck! Although, technically I think it’s already tomorrow…what time is it?”

“You’ve _thought_ about this? About us?” She says, hollowly.

(She’s the only damn thing he does think about it seems, these days – but - he’s not ready to tell her that.)

He’s filled with warmth at the hopeful look on her face. Mike looks down at their interleaved hands, picks both her wrists to bring them to his face and kisses the insides of both her palms – slowly, one after the other. The calluses rake over his lips in a way that gets him hard again.

“How do I know, you’re not just saying this, to get into my pants?” She says, sounding suspicious.

(She is _so_ adorable – that one!) He instantly chuckles into her palms, releases them so he can catch her hips and pull her closer. She doesn’t fight him, but she looks wary.

He nuzzles into the hollow of her neck and kisses his way up the column of her throat. (He likes the way it moves when she gulps, so he repeats the action.)

He nips at her soft ear-lobe and rasps into her ear. “Yep. You’re right.” He says. She moans loudly when he grates his beard up the length of her neck. “I’m just saying this to get into your pants.” He murmurs.

“Damn straight, you are.” She mutters, arching her neck against his lips.

He mouths his way up to the pulse point under her jaw and he licks it - she hisses, her quickening pulse rebounding furiously against the tip of his tongue. It is exhilarating, how amenably her body responds.   Mike pushes her hair aside and cups the base of her neck forcing her head towards his. He nudges at her nose, giving her little eskimo kiss.

“Damn straight.” He declares with a low growl, and forces her mouth open with his, so he can give her a long, slow, sloppy kiss.

A muffled whine escapes her, making his cock tighten. He threads his fingers into the thick spirals of her hair and bunches them in his hand, tugs on her gently to get her to lining her mouth up against his so he can suck her tongue.

(It feels as dirty as incest – him tonguing his rookie in a bathroom – but it’s dirty in the sort of way that excites him at the same time.) Mike groans – there’s a small whimper of protest from her part that drowns out the loud smack made when he pulls away.

He hovers over her mouth, his heart hammering in his chest, his breathing all erratic, their teeth knocking against his each other.

_We can’t be doing this here, Baker._ He wants to say, drawing his head back so he can brush his nose against hers. _This can’t be where we hook up._ _Also you need to step back and think about how I’m screwing with everything…your future…our game…our friendship…the history and future of major fucking league baseball…_

But then, he opens his eyes and looks at her. Eyes are wide open, pupils dilated, cheeks flushed, lips are swollen, intermittently grazing against his, struggling to breathe. Irresistible is what it is.

_Fuck it all to hell._ He thinks. _Skeevy bathroom and rule breaking it is_!  (- because - how is he supposed to not take this forward when she looks at him like that?) He’ll make it up to her, later, he decides (- and he only hopes that door’s properly locked.)

He hurriedly pushes her up against the wall; rams his pelvis into hers, wanting her to feel how hard she’s got him. A little whiny grunt escapes her - makes his cock twitch up against her stomach. He frantically pinches at the hem of her dress, yanking it up, the heel of his palm scraping up the exposed skin of her brawny thigh.

She cups the side of his face, when he kisses her again. When he slides the tip of his tongue against to roof of her mouth - her fingernails curl into his beard and her hips buckle towards him. He slinks his palm under her thigh for leverage and hoists her up. She squeaks out a surprised gasp that he likes so much, he’s grinning idiotically into her mouth as he adjusts their position.

She gasps, inside his mouth, when the edge of his palm hits up against the synthetic fabric over her crotch, stained wet by the obvious. That arouses him to the point where he feels like someone just dunked him in a moshpit of agreeable madness and a numbing stupor.  

(Such a baby in so many ways –  but she’s all woman as well)

Ginny’s writhing and struggling around his attempts to prod further with urgent sounds. He’s caught between feeling her up, balancing her weight and kissing her at the same time. He’s vaguely aware of the nagging pressure upon his lower back and knees working up in a crescendo.

He ignores it (– because the way she’s scritching her fingernails against his beard – it feels – it feels damn good.

_She_ \- feels so good.)

Yep. Bad. Fucking. Idea.

An electric shock followed by a nasty spark of pain shoots up his thigh, all the way to his hip. He groans as it stabs at him (and he’s sort of in the middle of grazing his teeth on her lower lip in that moment, and - ) his jaw clenches involuntarily biting her  - hard. She grunts in pain, jerks her head away.

“Fuck!” he exclaims, breathing heavily, dropping his forehead into her collarbone, crudely jerking his hand out from between them and slapping it on the wall for support.  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He exhales deeply as the spasm shoots up his back. His legs begin to tremble. “Shit!” He growls. “Goddammit!”

“Your back or your knee?” She puffs against his ear.

(So apparently, he’s become that grumpy old git who can’t move a damn body part without assistance. If there ever was a karmic cockblocker for: a) trying to do something wrong and – b) trying to do something really, really wrong after doing something wrong -  this would have to be it.)

“My fucking knee.” He wheezes and looks up at her face. Her lower lip’s got a nasty little red bump there, from his teeth. It’s sexy, but it also makes him feel like a supreme jerk. “I’m _so_ sorry.”. He gives the injured lip, a small peck to reiterate the apology. He sets her on her feet before he bends over grabbing his knee - realizes that the damn joint’s locked.

Ginny’s pretty winded too. She straightens her dress and then sinks to her haunches, coming to his eye-level. “Mike?” She sounds worried.

“Nah! I’m good.” He begins to say. “Goddammit!” He groans and moves it to relax it like the physiotherapist showed him. It takes a few seconds until the joint relaxes and he can move it. He curses out loud, bending his bad knee onto the floor, kneading the spasmed hamstrings.

“Should I call someone?” She asks with concern. “Should I call Ed?”

“No, I’m – good.” He huffs and hisses. “Y’know – it happens, sometimes.”

“Yeah - It’s a weight bearing joint…” He hears her speak, stifling a giggle. “We probably shouldn’t have been doing… _that_.”

Mike shoots her an incredulous look. Her lips are pressed in a fine line, but those dimples are just getting deeper and her eyes are twinkling. He’s conflicted between kissing her senseless or reprimanding her for _not_ trying to _not_ laugh at him.

“Oh, you think my knee breaking my mojo is funny, huh?” He bites out (- but he’s not annoyed. He’s sort of distracted by that goofy look on her face.)

“Nah…” She says, waving her hand dismissively, with a comical expression. “It’s kinda cute. You’re like this...pervy…ol’… Gran’pa.” She presses her lips even more, small giggles slipping through.

Mike cannot believe she has the pluck to say that. (It helps, though. He feels the pain ebb as the absurdity seeps through.)

She won’t wipe that silly smirk off her face even when she helps him stand up. He gingerly tests his weight on the knee and limps, keeping an arm around her. He doesn’t say anything until she opens the door but - “Pervy Grandpa, huh? Rookie?” He says, slyly, just at they’re about to exit. He gropes her ass and smacks it. She shrieks and jumps, surprised and amused.

“Come home with me,” he says, “I’ll show you pervy, Grandpa.”

She laughs loudly, shaking her head. She’s a little woozy from maybe the drinking and maybe the sexing so she stumbles a bit. He takes her elbow to steady her at first, but then he tugs it until she’s facing him.

“No, seriously.” He says, cupping her face, looking deep into her lovely eyes with a plea. “Come _home_ with me, Ginny.”

She gives him a shy, beautiful smile, dimples gleaming.

And, Mike feels like everything is right with the world.

 

 

 

She’s all hysterics as they stumble together into his apartment entangled in each other making out frantically. Even, between their intense kisses, she doesn’t just break away to breathe - she breaks away to laugh. At first, he thinks it’s cute but then it gets really damned tiring.

“Okay seriously!” He gasps. He’s allows her to drag his clumped shirt over his head. “What is so damned funny, Baker?”

“Your beard.” She says, mumming her lips. “It tickles.”

That makes a lot of sense but he knows it’s not the truth. She maybe all poker face and unreadable stance on the field but she’s actually a _terrible_ liar.

Mike gives her a pointed look until she gives in.

“Okay!” She says, chuckling as she reaches for the zipper along the side of her dress. “You. Me. This!” She gestures with a wave. She sighs and gets a lost look. “I’ve had a crush on you since I was…well – for the longest time.”

He beams at her smugly, kicking off his shoes and unbuckles his jeans. “Oh yeah?” He says. “Had a little fantasy going on there, did ya? What with my poster up on your wall and everything?”

She makes a scoffing noise.

“I mean, I can’t blame you, you know.” He gloats. “I’m really – like – _really_ – attractive!”

“Yeah, and real modest, too.” She remarks, winking sarcastically.

“Hey! You’re the one with the fantasy!” He says, making a pretentious face. “All the ladies just can’t get enough of me, Baker and _you_ –“ He taps his finger towards her. “ - get an all exclusive pass to this.” He motions at himself.

“I _didn’t_ have a fantasy.” She stresses on her words.  “Besides,” She shrugs her shoulders, giving him a closed lipped smile with a daring look in her eyes. “You’re kinda…” She bites back a smile and clears her throat. “- porky, now.”

His grin fades.  “Porky?” He echoes. He makes a mock expression of taking offence. He strips down to his boxers.

He notices her gaze trail over him, a hungry look in her eyes. When she comes upon that tent in his boxers poking obscenely in her direction, she suddenly looks away blushing. She gestures to her chin refusing to look at him and makes a face. “And you’re really hairy – like gross hairy.”

He’s impressed (– such a snooty appraisal of him, given that she gets all shy and sheepish every time she glances towards his hard-on). 

“Uh huh? And?” He dares her to go on.

“It’s like…” She gurgles over with silent laughter (but she still won’t look at him). “It’s like - you _ate_ your younger, hotter self.”

“Ate my –!“ He repeats. _Ooh. That’s low._ He thinks, and finds himself at a loss for a comeback. He narrows his eyes at her impish expression and smiles mischievously – charges at her with a playful growl.

She squeals, hooting with laughter when grabs her by her waist and drags her up to the loft. He’s guffawing with her by the time he lets go. Then, they’re both silent, smiling at each other idiotically.

(Yeah, he’s all out a hundred and fifty ways in love with this girl.)

She steps out of her shoes and reaches for the clip holding her hair together and shakes her head, her thick mane tumbling about her broad shoulders, a flurry of spirals and waves. 

His smile fades, he reaches for her.

“What are we doing here? Are you sure about this?” She says, making an adorable cooing sound as she slides her palms up over his shoulders. Her ministrations bring more contentment than he expects. She looks hesitant again, twisting her mouth, like she’s thinking over something.   

“We _are_ gonna have that, talk.” He says, decisively. “Tomorrow.”

She meets his eyes.

“I just wanna be with you tonight, Ginny.” He says, earnestly. “Whaddya say, Baker?”

She smiles up at him, brightly. He holds her close while they kiss, slow and gentle. She traces his bare skin, randomly. She starts squirming and that damned sniggering starts again when he moves to her neck. (It’s his beard - he gets that, so he lets it go.) He nips his way down to her collarbone as her body continues to rattle.  He sighs and straightens up, gives her a look that says ‘stop laughing’.

She gives him a stubborn look, sucking in a breath, all dimples and teeth.

Then she pushes back to strip out of her dress.

And – Mike just - _stares_.

It’s like she stepped out of a dream. Alluring purple lingerie, her dark wild curls surrounding her face and shoulders like some proverbial halo, eyes dark, her bronze skin glowing.

But it’s surreal, not because of her exquisiteness, as much as because it’s her – Ginny. And she wants him this way.

He staggers backwards till his knees hit the bed and he clumsily falls back onto it. She chews her lower lip, looking self-conscious. He knows he should - but he can’t form words to assuage her. Instead, he just sits there, supporting himself with on his outstretched palms, bewitched.

_(Beautiful_ , he wants to say.) “Motherfucker.” He blurts, instead.

She bursts into a titters, again. He gives her this stupid, thunderstruck grin. He just barely has the sense to grab her waist to steady her when she straddles his lap. She braces his shoulders; her knees sink into the mattress on either side of his thighs. He’s still gawping at her.

“What are you staring at?” she asks, gently, giving him a small teasing smile. Mike leans into her palm when she softly claps it against his cheek.

 “Your tits.” He says, sounding dumb even to himself. When she scowls at him, he continues to speak. “They look like pretty nice tits, and that colour….” He points to her lace bra. “…looks pretty nice on them too.”

“Ugh! Men” She rolls her eyes.

He looks up at her as he caresses her lean, athletic body up and down. All skin, muscle and hard bony prominences. He traces out scars over her elbows, forearms and knees and calves – remnants of old knicks and abrasions. Familiar to him and yet, different at the same time.  She pats his collar bone and his neck. It’s comforting and arousing at the same time. He skims a hand over her bra thinking she’s soft in all the right places, too. He grabs her ass, feeling her glutes clenching under his palm in response.

“Come here.” She says, softly, her husky voice raking through his ears.

She nudges his face up, and drops hers to kiss him. It’s a sloppy, languid kiss. Her lips are cool and her mouth his warm. Her hair waterfalls around their faces. He tucks her mane back -  traces the shape of her waist, down the middle where it narrows and down as it flares - he skims his fingertips along the bony edges of her spine with his fingertips.

The hum of her approval has him kissing _that_ spot on her neck, the one that he just knows will get a reaction - and she just doesn’t disappoint. He grates his beard against the sensitive skin over her breast bone, listening to her husky squeaks of pleasure.

He unhooks the bra, drags the garment of her body – deliberately teasing it over her skin - keeping his eyes fixed on her face until she reddens. He allows himself a small ogle session and earns a delighted sigh from her when he covers them with his palms. 

“You know, I have to say…you’ve got the best tits on the team.” He states, with a straight face, cupping them and rubbing the pads of his thumbs over the turgid nipples, watching them stiffen. “Yeah…” He murmurs, more to himself than her. “Even better than Al’s man-boobs.”

“Shut up!” She says, panting and laughing at the same time.  He buries his head into the space between her tits and inhales the scent of her body, feeling his cock shudder when his cheekbones touch the rounded edges of her breasts. He turns his head to the side and takes one into his mouth. Her fingernails dig into his scalp holding him against her chest. The strangled groans that she makes when he rubs the flat of his tongue over her nipple, gratifies him so much, it makes him lick, suckle and fondle all the more.

She moans loudly - keeps grinding her pelvis down over his erection.  It makes Mike feels like his body is a raw exposed electric conductor, all heat and sparks. He slips a palm between in them, sliding it through her underwear. He’s intrigued by how she throws her head back and rolls her pelvis. He feels her chest expand when he finds her clit - damp and stiff. She rocks her hips intuitively, downwards, wiggling over his fingers.

He glances up at her, wanting to see her face. She’s staring at him with hooded, cloudy eyes and her mouth open, muted gasps escaping between those full lips. The sight intensifies it for him – he could just literally come just there looking at that hot expression on her face.

He releases her nipple with a smack of his lips, tightens his grip on her waist and flips her. She lands unceremoniously on the bed with a soft shriek, the mattress rebounding under her weight. She gives him a surprised smile and elbows her way up towards the headboard, as he scrambles on top of her., getting to work on her body. Ginny opens up beautifully under the attention of his mouth and hands. Her back arches up, her abdominal muscles clench, her belly button dips.

She gasps sometimes, she moans a lot. And her noises are such that his body is begging him for reprieve.  Mike grunts with the occasional pulse hits his cock, threatening to climax. But he can’t stop with the foreplay – he wants more.

(She’s everything he imagined it to be and more.)

She suddenly sits up and places a hand on his shoulder. Her eyes are glassy, her skin is flushed and her breathing is ragged. “Mike, wait.” She says, hesitantly. He’s made his way down her body, and has his finger hooked in the lace waistband.

“I’ve told you before, rookie.” He says, finding his voice thick when he speaks. He props himself on his elbows as he slinks down and grabs her knees. “You need to trust me.”

“I – uh – I do it’s just…” She says, hurriedly.

“Oh, believe me, Baker, I’m really good at this.” He announces, trying to give her a cocky smile, but really he grits his teeth, because his lower abs are clenching – his cock’s downright throbbing and he feels the wetness stain his boxers.

Her nervous expression fades and she rolls her eyes.  “No! Really?” She retorts. “I’m sure you’ll tell me about it.”

He guffaws and tugs her underwear down over the sharp edge of the hip bone. She groans exasperatedly and slumps back, she covers her face with her hands and mumbles something.

“Say what?” He murmurs, nipping at the sensitive skin just above her pelvic bone.

“I’m kinda sweaty and gross down there, right now!” She says, through gritted teeth.

He chuckles. “Baby, I have spent the more than half my life in men’s locker rooms. Sweaty and gross doesn’t faze me.” She’s back up on her elbows again, and her breasts look super perky from that angle. He bounds forward to give her a peck. “You’re _not_ sweaty and gross.” He reassures her.

When she still looks apprehensively, he feels mischievous again. “Unless, you’re secretly a dude.” He pretends to frown pensively and then fakes worry. “Are you secretly a dude down there?”

She gets feistiest when he distracts her with irrelevant talk. It’s his most favourite past time - their banter. Getting her irked, just to watch her expressions.

She smacks his shoulder and falls back, huffing. He watches her grab the headboard, looking down at him in anticipation, biting down on her lower lip. He waits patiently and sneers when she grits her teeth and as good as growls. “No! I’m not secretly a dude!” She exclaims, irritated. When he doesn’t move, she looks at him exasperatedly, pointing towards the hand he has on the lace bikni-cut underwear. “Don’t you wanna find out?”

He’s already pulled it off before she can finish her words. She looks up at the ceiling when he looks down at her. (She likes to keep herself neat and trim - something he had have pegged her for – he’s amused by how correct his presumption was.) “Nope.” He says, cheekily. “Definitely _not_ a dude.”

Mike catches her foot when she makes to kick him. He forcefully spreads the leg out wide and bites the inside of her thigh. Her skin is salty to his tongue. He rakes his chin towards the centre feeling her flinch and gasp loudly. She whines out loud with her back arching, as good as shoving herself into his face. She’s so wet, his tongue just slips through to rub over her clit. He inhales in the heady scent and takes in salty citrusy taste of her as she flails and whimpers around him. He merely follows his tongue with the hard edge of his knuckle for a few seconds before she goes rigid, her thighs clap shut over his ears and she comes beautifully.

“Oh my god...!” She’s wheezing, when he lifts his head to look at her.

She can’t possibly know difficult he finds it to breathe. His cock’s went so painfully hard, when she orgasmed into his face, it might as well be lumber for a baseball bat.

His head is pounding with desperation, and any other time, he’d have felt all smug about it that she’s clutching on that headboard like her life depends on it. 

“See?” He teases, wiping her cum off his beard as he rises to his knees. “I told you, I’m _really_ good at this.”

She doesn’t take to his self-praise as well as he hoped. She’s just looking at him, hyperventilating. Her breasts heaving up and down with each intake of air.

“You’re – really full of yourself, y’know that?” She gasps. She wipes the sweat off her forehead and kicks her legs out lose from under his elbows until she can place her feet at the waistband of his boxers.

“What?” He teases. “No praise or proclamations of thanksgiving?”

“Off!” She commands before he opens his mouth to crack another one. He obeys, divesting himself off his boxers. His cock’s swollen full and wagging up and down as soon as it’s out. It amuses him when she licks her lips and looks away shyly.

“And wipe that damn smug grin off of yo’ face too!” She adds, cutting him off when he tries another comeback. She’s darned sexy like that, giving orders like she runs the show. (Sure, he’ll let her captain him in bed. He can totally live with that.)

He winks at her, as he climbs over her body, hovering over her, reaching for the sidetable. She’s not meeting his eyes, he notices, as he retrieves the condoms. She’s gingerly placed her hands on his waist and looks everywhere but at his cock. Every time she glances at it, her face flushes and looks away.

He wonders whether her nervousness is because he was once the object of hero-worship and she has some exalted idea of him (not, that he minds) or if it’s because she’s relatively low on sexual experiences given that her life _has_ been all about baseball and nothing more. ( _A robot in cleats,_ she called herself once. He never understood that for longest time.)

He takes satisfaction in knowing, they’re doing this the way he intended it for it be. Intense and sexy sure, but also fun and comfortable. He’s always shared an intimacy with her that went beyond explanations and suppositions. He wants her to enjoy this. He wants to enjoy it.

_This_ might be all he gets.

“Too big, for you, Baker?” He teases, knowing it’ll get some fiesty response from her. He rips the foil with his teeth and grunts while he gets himself ready. “Y’know, I’ve been told it’s the finest specimen of….”

Her eyes flash with annoyance.  “Yeah, not _that_ fine, whiteboy!” She bites out, cutting him off.

Mike snaps his head up at her. His hand freezes at the base of his cock over the condom. That – though – that unsettles him, greatly. The idea that Ginny, given her ethnic orientation, might have a preference for –

(Woah wait! Is that why she’s not looking at it? Is she disappointed?)

She stares blankly at him for a second before she bursts into laughter.

“Not cool, Baker.” He says, still a little stumped. “You damned well nearly gave me a complex there.”

“You should see your face!” Her voice is high pitched between her chuckles, her shoulders shaking. “Oh -ohmigdod – you men are so predictable!”

Mike’s grinning at her fondly, shaking his head over her amusement, with his palms flattened on either side of her holding his weight off her. He pushes down to kiss her and her laughter dissipates into small quiet chuckles. She tilts her chin and kisses him back. Her rough palms stroking his back encouragingly. She braces his shoulders and readies herself under him.

He reaches his hand under her ass to line them up, he grabs his cock and eases into her. He hisses when her fingernails claw into his back - her eyelids flutter shut, her head arches and she moans -  a loud approving noise that would totally have otherwise made him feel dandy smug, if he didn’t feel like he’d come right there.  She’s so snugly fit around him; he doesn’t want to move.

Mike sucks in his breath, digging his fist right into the mattress keeping himself propped up. His heart is thumping in a way that threatens to pound its way out of his chest. Heat flushes his body, sweat breaks out all over.

“Ginny, Baby, look at me.” He kisses her forehead until she half-opens her eyes.

(He wants to tell her he’s in love with her – but – this is new to him. It’s new to her, too.)

He presses small kisses down to her nose and then nuzzles it. “I’ve got you.” He says, softly. She presses her lips together, whimpering a little but nods. Her forehead’s glistening with sweat, curls plastered over them. Mike reaches a hand to smoothen those damp curls back over her hairline.

“How’s that for whiteboy, huh?” He quips, trying to be funny. (It doesn’t sound funny to him, though.)

“Umm…” She gasps. She shifts around uncomfortably at first and nods, pursing her mouth, like she’s getting used to it. “Not bad.”

“Not bad, she says.” He mutters, not really processing any words at that point. With every movement, she’s basically twitching around him. It takes a lot a whole lot of supernatural strength he didn’t know he possessed to keep still.

(Also his back’s starting to complain – which sucks.)

He drops his head into the dip of her shoulder, waiting until she stops fidgeting. He kisses the side of her face, making his way to her mouth and then splays his thighs before he thrusts. He’s not sure if she’s uncomfortable or if she likes it. He shifts his weight so he can pull out, just a little and thrusts himself into her again. They groan together. “You okay, Baker?” He pants into her ear.

“Um – yeah.” She gasps.

He nudges her chin till she turns her face to him. Her eyes are dark and unfocussed; her face is glistening with beads of sweat. He starts to rock against her, his whole body feels tense at first because he doesn’t know if this is as good for her as it is for him. He keeps watching at her face and seeing the way her eyes roll shut, and her eyebrows cross – he knows that she’s not _hating_ it.

“You good?” He asks, again.

Her fingernails dig into his shoulders in response. She nods her head furiously. “Yeah, yeah - I’m good. Don’t…” She sucks in a deep breath. “Don’t stop.”

He grunts in acknowledgement and then settles into a rhythm. She jerks her hips to match his forward movements. He relaxes into the her, allows her to feel his weight ( _which_ , he notices – she really seems to like) given how responsively her body clenches around his throbbing cock. He digs his knees into the mattress to get a better angle. He growls a little when he feels his vertebrae protest in with pain but the sounds she makes become more protracted and louder, distracting him. She starts to move faster than him. Her thighs butterfly out more taking him deeper. Mike grunts loudly, when she reaches to grips his ass, instinctively jerking in more urgent, more uncoordinated thrusts.

He barks out a loud gasp when she suddenly changes rhythm and rolls her hip making his cock tremble.

“Fuck! Baby!” He begs against her ear. “Don’t do that.”

“Why?” She says, with a thick husky nasal voice, still rotating her pelvis under him. “You don’t like it?”

He lifts his head and covers her mouth with his. He licks her tongue, squeezes his eyes shut and wheezes. “Oh, I like it all right.” He whispers, his teeth knocking against hers. “Too fucking much.”

(So much that he’ll just blow his load and he’s not ready to do that yet.)

“Mike.” She whines. He can barely hear her plea above the sound of creaking bed and his balls slapping against her damp skin. He’s almost there and she’s squirming under him in a peculiar manner that he knows she’s close. He’s reaching between them, because he really – really – wants to watch her come before he does. Mike plants hard kisses against her cheekbones all the way to her mouth, torn between focussing on her face or how to get to her clit, all with a simultaneous effort to slow the whole thing down – because he wants to feel _all_ of it.

She’s watching him too, with those observant, quiet eyes of her. Her mouth trembles, her breathing is fitful.

He stops moving, lets her work her pelvis up against him, simply loving – just _loving_ – the way she cramps herself down his cock, he pushes a knee forward, lifting her hip just that much, angling his thrusts deeper – her body jerks back. “Yeah?” He asks, knocking his forehead against hers.

“Yeah.” She grits, eyes snapping shut, lips pressed tightly and starting to quiver under him.

Her hands are a distraction. They’re just skimming over his moist skin, with her fingers clawing into him every now and then. It’s all good, except he’s scared it’ll precipitate an orgasm before he’s there.

He grabs them both and fixes them above her head, levering his weight onto her. There’s a film of sweat between them that facilitates friction, a heightened tingling sensation that erupts all over him. Her breasts chafe up and down against his chest with their laboured breathing. Her fists close, her fingers tightly intertwining with his own.  He captures her upper lip in a gentle kiss as he moves faster.

“Come on, Baby.” He whispers, over her mouth. “Bring me home.”

And, just like that, her eyes fly shut, her fingernails sink into the webspaces of his hands, her body arches up, her heels dig into the back of his thighs. She grits her teeth and then gasps out.

Blood rushes to his ears. That one last, long thrust and a fierce groan and he’s done, gripping her hands with a crushing force as he rides it out.

She’s still quivering and twisting when he flops down on her, practically crushing her with his weight. His cock goes limp and slips out, hot slick trickling down his thighs. He drops his head into her neck, nudging his nose up and down on her skin trying to soothe her through the aftershocks waiting for his heart to stop pummelling at against his rib-cage like that.

(He all out almost tells her he loves her, right then – but he doesn’t.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knows there’s a whole clusterfuck of complications waiting for them, on the other side of this – but he also knows he’ll face it head on if he has to.

This is right. _She_ is right.)

 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I'm a depraved pervert with a Ginny x Mike addiction. Don't sue me. I need help. But do review.


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